


Some things change

by Aegiswarrior



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: F/F, Post canon, mild p4 spoilers at most
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25598218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegiswarrior/pseuds/Aegiswarrior
Summary: It’s easy to lie when the words are spun up into a song.Easy to take the truth and twist it a little, bend it into a distorted mirror of itself, until no one can recognise it. Until the truth tastes just as false as the rest.Until even the person her songs are about can listen to them and not notice.
Relationships: Kujikawa Rise/Shirogane Naoto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Some things change

It’s easy to lie when the words are spun up into a song. Easy to take the truth and twist it a little, bend it into a distorted mirror of itself, until no one can recognise it. Until the truth tastes just as false as the rest.

Until even the person her songs are about can listen to them and not notice.

(Not like that’s hard to do anymore. She’s not bitter, really. But she misses the days when she could see her friends whenever she wanted, and it didn’t take weeks and weeks of planning to see any of them. It’s easy to hide things now, when they only exist in the spaces between everything else that consumes her time.)

Some things change. Some don’t. Rise ran away from a life performing, solved a murder, ran back. She likes to think she’s someone different now. That she took that time back in Inaba and made it worth something. That neither Rise nor Risette are lies anymore.

It’s a nice thought.

But she comes back. Stands on a stage again, listens to the crowd again, feels the pulse of music loud enough to drown her heartbeat. Loses herself in it, drowns herself in it, again and again and again. This at least isn’t a lie. She loves music, whether she is making it or listening to it, and she likes performing like this. When she can stop thinking about questions she doesn’t want to answer, when she can forget even her own name, so long as there is a microphone in her hand.

(They let her start to write her own music this time. She insisted on it. She’ll take lessons, she’ll take rejected song after rejected song, so long as she gets that one thing. It takes longer than she would have liked, and the final product still sounds rough and unpolished by the time they finish it. But no one can stop her from sending a not-so-humble message to the investigation team’s groupchat.)

It's her first time performing anything she had a substantial hand in creating. It shouldn’t make her nervous, but it does. Rise gets through most of her set just fine, let’s the noise distract her from any kind of nervousness. But then the music drops away, and it’s just her standing by herself above a crowd, joking and smiling as she tries to warm them up to the prospect of something a bit different to what they normally demand of her. Something less sugar sweet, something that cuts a bit closer to the heart.

In the end, she just closes her eyes, and sings it like she did when she was desperately trying to prove to her manager that she _really could_ do this, that she was worth investing their time in even if her days as a teenage idol are rapidly coming to an end, killed by her own hand. She sings it like she means it, and listens to her own voice more than she listens to the reaction of the crowd.

It’s a risk, changing her style like this. It’s also a risk to become someone other than what her fans want her to be. But if she honest, Rise doesn’t really care. She likes performing as herself, likes sinking into the messy construction of music rather than just being the pretty mouthpiece for someone else’s words. She’s not the gloomy girl with no friends anymore, nor the fake idol with a faker smile, but someone in the middle.

And she might not know exactly who that person is yet, but she’s trying to find her.

_Maybe she had leapt too eagerly for the freedom she'd been denied for years. All those rules about no boyfriends, hell, no boys in general, and she was unsurprisingly curious. But even if Souji was nice, even if he was what girls would call handsome, she knows enough about herself to know it was more curiosity than anything else. But he was nice, and a friend who always seemed to know how to get her to spill secrets she would have hated anyone else knowing. The flirting became a joke between the two of them, one she kept doing more to annoy the rest of their friends than anything else._

_Especially when it turned out her type was less "handsome older boys" than "smart androgynous girls who blush too easily"._

_Like she didn't have enough to deal with._

_And maybe she should have tried something. Maybe she should have pressed harder. But idols aren’t meant to date anyone. And every time she pressed for answers about what kind of person Naoto was into, she always seemed to make her uncomfortable. Rise let every opportunity pass by her in the end._

_And yeah, having an unrequited crush kinda sucks. But it’s nice to feel like a normal teenager for once. And if nothing else, it gives her something to sing about._

_Win-win, really._

The crowd is deafening by the time she finishes her song. She feels like she blacked out somewhere between singing the opening few bars and finishing, and the pulse of blood in her ears has her feeling dizzy. She can’t even tell if the crowd is cheering or booing.

Both is fine, she thinks, so long as she provokes a strong enough reaction. The last thing she wants is to be considered boring. Whichever it is, she takes it as a compliment, and waves to the crowd, painting on her most convincing smile, and skips off stage.

Her manager stops her before she gets too far. “We’re releasing that song tonight.” He tells her.

* * *

“I like this one.” Naoto tells her, the next time they both manage to claw out some time in their schedules to meet. Naoto is in Tokyo for yet another case, and hadn’t resisted Rise’s insistence that she visit her. Rise had snuck an advanced copy of her new album out of the studio to give her, and had to keep from laughing as Naoto had completely ignored the fact that she had bothered to sign the cover in favour of shoving the CD in the closest set of speakers.

“It’s the first one I got to help write.” Rise says. It’s impossible not to sound proud.

“I can tell.” Naoto tells her. “The lyrics are clearly written by an amateur.”

“Ouch.” Rise says, teasingly. “I’ll put that on the back of the album cover. People will buy it out of pity.”

Naoto flushes, and Rise cuts her off before she can speak again.

It’s almost a game, trying to provoke a reaction in her. Not much works, but it’s always entertaining to try. Signed merchandise that even her most uninterested fans would salivate over is ignored, flirtatious banter just flusters her, and if she wears a provocative enough outfit Naoto will struggle to even look her way. There’s a line between disinterest and outright embarrassment, and Rise hasn’t found it yet.

She won’t push her too far, but it’s always fun to tease.

“I get it, though.” Rise says. “It’s not really what anyone wants from Risette.”

“T-that’s not what I meant.” Naoto rushes to say. She stops for a moment to compose herself. “I meant that it felt honest.”

“Don’t worry,” Rise says, “I’m not mad. I know it could use work.”

Naoto hums in agreement, which is amusing too. It’s nice to have someone be blunt with her, to not play games with their words and opinions.

“Hopefully they’ll let me make more.” Rise says, quietly. “Which all depends on if this actually is something people want from me.”

“Does it matter what anyone else wants from you?” Naoto asks. “As long as this is what you want to make, then that is all that should matter.”

It’s not a question she has an answer to.

* * *

She writes more songs, performs more concerts. Her life gets busier by the day, but she’s all the happier for it.

They’re both busy these days. It should be a blessing, that the paths they have chosen for themselves have taken them this far, but that truth still tastes bitter when Rise only gets to hear from her friends in brief text messages or brief phone calls taken from stolen time.

Even if Naoto is in the same city as her now, it takes a lot of creativity to find any gap of time where she can see her in person. Well, she says creativity. The answer is closer to Naoto doing paperwork and looking through her case notes while Rise tries not to swear at the paperwork her agency insists she do herself. Sometimes they do this in silence, but most of the time Rise puts on music that she thinks Naoto won’t hate. Which isn’t easy, given how dramatically their tastes differ.

But sometimes she brings her own music, wanting Naoto to give her opinion on it. Rise brings most of her new songs here first. All her songs are passed through dozens of hands before they’re released, but this ritual is the one she values the most. Naoto might be blunt, might not be an expert, but she has a knack for observing something about whatever song Rise brings her that no one else has managed to notice.

How Naoto manages to focus on her work and analyse every song that plays, Rise doesn’t know. But her commentary is interesting, and Rise keeps a note of some of the more helpful comments she makes.

Sooner than she’d like, the last song begins. Rise has to stop herself from leaning over Naoto to skip this song. Of all her songs, this is the one that is the least disguised. Wound slower, with less of the loud overpowering instruments that are her usual trademark. And the lyrics cut too close to the heart too. Hint at questions she still doesn’t have the answers to, about who exactly she is and what exactly she wants.

"You're singing about a woman?" Naoto bursts out with before the song is over. She pauses the song, stares at the speakers like they’re a puzzle she has to solve. Like she could take apart all the pieces inside and they would answer every question she has about the song they had been playing only moments earlier.

"Mhmm. Why, is that strange?" Rise winks out of habit, feels that now familiar flutter in her stomach when Naoto’s face turns red.

"N-no it's. I hadn't. They let you?"

"I thought about what you said. About whether it matters what other people think about my music." She grins. "They didn't 'let me'. I made them."

If this song is more honest, it turns her into more of a liar to disguise it. Her manager liked it. She’d only showed it to him when he insisted, and kept going on and on about how her fans would like her more mature turn. She hadn’t meant this one to be heard by an audience beyond herself.

"Ah. I see." Naoto says. She seems a bit calmer now, even if her face is still pink.

"You still haven't told me what you think about it, though! Come on! I brought it to you for a reason."

"I'm not an expert on this kind of music."

"Yeah, Miss 'only listens to boring old classical music'. I didn't ask for an expert opinion."

Naoto clears her throat. She rewinds the song to the beginning, listens to it carefully in silence. Its nerve-wracking, watching her stare at the speakers, her expression giving nothing away.

"It’s... nice." Naoto says finally.

Oh.

"You don't like it?" Rise asks.

"I didn’t say that." Naoto frowns. "There's nothing wrong with it. The lyrics are fine. You sing well. From what I know of pop music, it's fine."

(What was that thing she used to think about her music? That she didn’t mind if people hated it, so long as it left a big enough impression for them to feel _something_? Whatever it was, she’s feeling it now, and wishing it were true.)

"I'm hearing a 'but' here. Come on. Tell me." Rise says.

"Isn't it a bit sad?"

"Really?"

"I might be overanalysing it. However, you sing about this woman as if she broke your heart. It’s not... It's not a love song."

Naoto pauses the music. Taps her fingers on the speaker, thinking, switching to detective mode in a heartbeat. "Did someone break your heart?" She asks softly.

Oh. Oh no.

She wants to deflect, to wink and smile and fluster Naoto into forgetting that particular question. But Naoto’s analytical gaze is slicing into her now, trying to take her apart as cleanly as if she were a machine. It easy to lie with a song, harder when someone is staring at you and expecting an answer you _really_ don’t want to give.

“ _Broke my heart_ is a bit strong.” Rise says quietly. “It’s closer to _someone I never had a chance with_ , you know?”

Naoto nods, slowly. “I see.” She still looks curious. “I might not be an expert on such matters, but I’m surprised you thought anyone was beyond your reach.”

“You’d be surprised.” Rise says. This conversation is dangerous, she thinks. But there is a thrill in it still, to skate close enough to the truth to brush it, only to veer away at the last minute. She can manage that, at least. After all, she has spent most of her life dancing with words, in one way or another. “I’m not everyone’s type.”

“I understand that.” Naoto says, blunt as ever. It makes Rise smile, just a bit. Naoto leans away from the speakers, and closer to her. She picks up her pen, makes a quick adjustment to her notes, and doesn’t look up. “I don’t appeal to most people, after all.”

Rise leans over to nudge her shoulder gently. It’s a small thing, something that should be barely worth noticing. But Naoto always seems so surprised whenever someone touches her, like she’s still coming to terms with human contact.

“Do you listen to yourself?” Rise says. “ _Don’t appeal to most people_ , as if. I know how popular you are. How many love letters did you get in school?”

“That’s… That’s not the same thing. Everyone who wrote those were just…”

“Distractions?” Rise says. She’s heard that before. It’s the usual answer to the _why aren’t you interested in anyone?_ question.

“Yes.” Naoto says. “That kind of thing is a waste of time.”

“That is exactly why you’re still single.” Rise says. “Naoto Shirogane, Detective Prince and resident heart breaker.”

Rise may have pushed it too far, because Naoto is looking at her again with suspicion in her eyes.

“I was never interested in those letters,” Naoto says, carefully, “because the people who wrote them didn’t actually know me. They were just deluded by outward appearances. That’s why it is and was a waste of time. That doesn’t… necessitate that I think the concept itself is a waste.”

“Oh really?” Rise says. She paints on a smile. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re capable of feeling? That you might actually have someone you like?”

Naoto doesn’t look at her for a moment. She keeps her head down, scribbles something down on the paper in front of her. It would almost work as a distraction, if Rise didn’t already know how easily Naoto manages to simultaneously hold a conversation and work.

“I might.” She says, just as carefully as before.

“Oh?”

Naoto flushes again, deeper this time. “Do you… still have an interest in that woman you wrote about?”

She’s cutting closer again, Rise thinks. This conversation feels less like playing with fire, and more like sticking her hands into the flames and expecting not to get burnt.

“Maybe.” Rise says.

“Would I know her?” Naoto asks.

Screw this, Rise thinks. It’s been too long, and she’s worn herself dry dancing around the subject, like it’s possible to be coy around a detective. There comes a point where she has to trust her instincts, that even if she has read this whole conversation wrong, she has to trust that Naoto is strong enough to shove her away if she isn’t interested.

She props her chin up with her hand, and waits until Naoto looks her in the eye again. “You do.” Rise says. She waits a moment. Naoto’s face is still red, which is a good sign. “Are you going to say it, or should I?”

“I would like to hear it confirmed.” Naoto says quietly.

Funny, how she still feels nervous. It makes her feel like the moment before performing a new song on stage for the first time, when it feels like she has forgotten everything she knows about performing. When it’s just her fighting against the silence.

“It’s you.” She says.

It’s the obvious answer, given the dance they have shared up until this point. But it still makes Naoto’s eyes widen in shock, still makes her drop her pen on the floor.

“I-I see.” Naoto says.

“I would have expected you to be better at handling confessions by now.” Rise says. She makes herself smile again.

“Not to one that actually matters.” Naoto tells her. “Forgive me for my lack of experience in this regard.”

“Nope.” Rise says. “It’s too late. I’m going to ring up everyone and tell them how cruelly you rejected me.”

“I never said I was going to reject you.” Naoto says, frowning. “In fact, I might… feel the same way.”

“What way?” Rise teases. She slides closer, until they are flush together.

“Do I need to say it?”

“What if I want to hear it?” Rise says. But she’s not cruel, so she doesn’t push further. Instead, she reaches out for Naoto’s hand, felling a small thrill rush through her when Naoto let’s her take it. She brushes her thumb gently across the back of her hand. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed by the way.”

“I am not at all cute.” Naoto tries to argue. It’s unconvincing when her face is as red as it is, when she reacts so dramatically to the slightest bit of physical contact.

She’ll convince her eventually, Rise thinks. She has time. For now, she feels greedy.

She drops Naoto’s hand, slowly reaches out and brushes her fingers against her jaw. Just lightly at first, watching the way she reacts, then cups her hand around her jaw more firmly. Naoto doesn’t pull away, doesn’t look uncomfortable. Even still, she takes it step by step by step, leans in slowly, watching and measuring right up to the point where Naoto’s lips touch hers.

It's clumsy, rough, and amateurish. But Rise finds she doesn’t mind. They have time, she thinks. That thought is more seductive than anything else.

* * *

Some things change, some don’t. Rise stands on a stage again, like she always has. She sings, she dances, she performs. She drowns herself in her own music, in the feeling of having so many people staring at her. It’s just as familiar as it is exhilarating.

But there’s someone else in the crowd now. Rise doesn’t know where. But she is there. So, Rise sings to the whole crowd as if they are her.

Maybe, just maybe, she should have been honest earlier. But she feels honest now, and none of her words or her songs taste like lies anymore.


End file.
